


Shizaya Fanfic: Recovery

by dis17



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Violence, Not much tho this is a cutsey story I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dis17/pseuds/dis17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Shizuo Heiwajima drunkenly drags Izaya Orihara to his home for the night, the two become impossibly aware of each other. But as they try to avoid one another, they realize they can't stay away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Hi everyone! I'm back with the crappy Shizaya fanfiction! Well, I'm going to try to upload the first few chapters of this very, very, very short story so my uploading will be in sync with Wattpad's. Anyway, here's the first chapter.

Izaya idly paced the length of the dark alley. He'd waited for three hours already and he had places to be. But god, would he endure. He had to make yet another appointment, and then call this other guy, and THEN go back home to send god knows how many people emails. To be honest, what Izaya Orihara wanted more than anything right about now, would've been a break. He was just waiting for it.

He looked, slyly sneaking out of the alley and inching his way down the sidewalk. No one walked at this hour. Nearly no cars passed by, either. There was only the raven haired man and his shadow. And the sound of glass hitting metal. Izaya's hairs stood on end. He looked to the right, where the sound was coming from, and saw its origin; a glass bottle being dragged about against an iron fence. Izaya chuckled to himself when he recognized Shizuo Heiwajima stumbling down the sidewalk, completely hammered. The blond man sniffed him first. A groan escaped his lips, then more distinctly something like "Eeezzyyyuh".

Eventually, the blond looked up, staring at the information broker with bloodshot eyes and called out, "IZAYAAAAAA-KUUNNN!!" with the might of a thousand men.

At this, seeing exactly how drunk Shizuo was, Izaya decided to take his chances and walk up to him, gently stepping on the sidewalk as light as a feather, and making sure his figure and face were clear for Shizuo to view.

"Hello, Shizu-chan. Now, what have we got here? Are you," he gasped audibly, "DRUNK?! Why, Shizu-chan, you're being irresponsible, with a little brother to take care of and all."

The information broker was smug, and was already concocting more than a few tricks to lead Shizuo into a fit and hopefully then something amusing would happen. His thoughts were cut short when a strong hand gripped his neck and lifted him off the ground. An exasperated gasp left his lips as he felt his back hit the wall behind him, Shizuo's nails digging into his flesh. Izaya struggled against his grip, feeling foolish for having let his guard down, as with Shizuo no one could tell when the monster would strike. He grabbed onto his arm and willed it to pull away from himself, but the monster was unmovable and instead lifted him up higher from the ground, and Izaya just didn't have the strength. He never thought a protozoan like Shizu-chan would actually catch him. And because he was being stupid, for once.

"Hey, Shizu-chan... you're not really going to kill me, right?" he said. "I know we've had our differences, but we're actually really similar!"

A grunt was his only response.

A sheen of perspiration already visible on his forehead, Izaya mustered all his strength and swallowed his pride.

"Shizu-chaaaaaannnn, don't hurt me! I'm your friend! Guess what, if you let me go I'll make you feel REALLY special!"

Shizuo looked up at him. Izaya smirked. He knew a drunk Shizuo only cared about peace and tranquility, and occasionally some pleasure. Shizuo, well, he got around. The informant knew of every one of his escapades, and it looked to him as if the bisexual bodyguard was just too drunk to care who he got into bed with. Of course, he, the most powerful man in the whole of Ikebukuro, would never dream of going to bed with a lowly monster like him. Oh, no, nobody was good enough for a god. No, Izaya kept to himself. The foolish human feelings of love could be lived without, and as for sexual pleasures, he could do just fine himself. He needed no petty human feelings; after all, he was a god.

He would just escape as soon as Shizuo let him go, which was right about now, as he let his grip give. The raven haired man was about to make a dash for his switchblade when a strong chest crushed against him and Shizuo's hand gripping his neck again. Izaya looked up to see Shizuo's glazed over eyes, looking at him with a slight scowl.

"You're not gonna leave," he slurred. "You promised."

As the pressure of Shizuo's grip on his neck made it impossibly hard for him to breathe, the informant cursed his stupidity one last time before the dots in his vision took over the whole of his eyes.

 

Izaya awoke on a hard bed. Light streamed through semi-closed shutters as he struggled to sit up. He felt like a rag doll, his limbs heavier than they should've been. And he remembered Shizuo. With a start, he quickly looked around him, and after coming to a realization, gulped, and lightly touched his shirt. He was dressed, at least. He felt quite odd, to be honest, but he didn't think the blond had anything to do with that, at least in the way he feared.

A bit shaken, he looked for his coat. He found it resting on the back of a chair a few feet from him. Pulling it around him, he smelled at the familiar fur and was greeted by a rather different fragrance. A mix of musk and vanilla invaded his nostrils instead of the usual scent of soap and disinfectant he always carried. On further inspection, he found his clothes drenched in the same pleasant smell, but what surprised him was something entirely different. A bruise, now on its way to turning purple, ran across of his neck, right below his hair. He looked at this in a mirror just next to the bed. After convincing himself to not think of the mark lining his flesh, he noticed a twelve-ounce bottle of strawberry yogurt and a straw sitting on a drawer chest. Feeling as though this was what he was supposed to do, Izaya inserted the straw into the bottle after taking the seal off, and drank silently while sitting on the bed.

He finished the drink and licked his lips. His head pounded. Dizzy, he staggered back to his feet and made for the door. Before he could grab the handle, though, the door swung open and revealed a haggard looking Shizuo. Giving a few steps back, Izaya eyed the man oddly dressed in something else than his bartender outfit: a gray shirt and black sweatpants. The blond studied Izaya's face, then a mixture of anger and embarrassment flooded along with a deep set blush. He stood there, scratching the back of his neck, looking at the floor.

Izaya stayed silent, and after getting tired of looking at Shizuo's uncomfortable face, made a move to get out the door. The blond, however, got in his way and made him stop.

"Wait, Izaya."

"Yes?"

"I- uh, I'm sorry," he said. He was looking at Izaya with slightly wide eyes, and his expression was hard to read as anything other than surprised.

"You don't remember, do you?" The broker asked.

Shizuo stayed silent.

"Do you?" he asked again.

When the blond man didn't answer again, Izaya left. This time, Shizuo did not try to stop him.


	2. Musings

Shizuo had just woken up and noticed warmth surrounding him. He was curled around some sort of flexible heater that accommodated his body perfectly. He smelled a slight doctor’s office smell and crumpled his nose. This was strange. It was a scent he knew, wasn’t it? Someone he was constantly looking after… The flea? In his house? In his bed? Next to him?!

Shizuo shot up at once. He silently grieved for his undisturbed sleep and confirmed that the radiating heat he found so comfortable was, in fact, coming from the annoying flea. He actually sat there for a while trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that the flea was in his house, that he had slept with him, and that he didn't remember how any of it happened. After spotting a purple mark on the flea’s neck, and leaning over his sleeping body in order to investigate, he became a bit more worried than he already was. A bruise, most likely of his own doing, was already a purple stain on Izaya’s pale skin. Shizuo swallowed and hoped that nothing serious had happened that had caused said bruised to be in its place. He really, really, really, didn’t want this to have been the result of a nightly escapade he didn’t even remember. It was bad enough that he’d have to deal with this himself, but he suddenly realized he’d also need to explain himself to the flea, and would probably need him to tell him what exactly happened last night, if he remembered, that was.

Shizuo was already straining his brain cells when he came to the startling epiphany that he was an idiot and that he wasn’t going to come up with any answers by himself. He decided the best thing he could do was get himself to a presentable state so he could face Izaya with some sort of dignity. Thus, he made for his bathroom and carried a random set of clothes with him.

Letting his mind drift as he stepped into the shower, he tried his best to let it go as the hot water covered his skin. He figured he’d have time to figure all this out whenever Izaya woke up, if he wanted to help him, that is. God, the possibilities of what he may have done to him cleared up only now, and he grasped at the thought that other than the bruise, the information broker didn’t seem harmed or altered in any way. He tried to relax and empty his head, but as usual, peace would always run from him. His head was clouded with unwelcome thoughts, most wondering how in the the seven hells he managed to get this sworn enemy of sorts into his bed. He didn’t want to think there was any actual reason as to why he had taken him there, if he had. If was always a probability, and that made Shizuo feel a bit more secure. If he had taken Izaya due to a mysterious, unsolvable attraction to the man that made Shizuo forget all his proper motor functions and find violence as an only resource available to interact with said man, he didn’t like if any more.

For a while after high school, Shizuo was left a bit… disconcerted. That was, he figured out through much neuron-destroying behaviour, due to Izaya’s absence. Shizuo didn’t realize he had a crush on the flea until two years after they were apart, and the realization hit hard, especially when the information broker came back to his part of town and left him feeling a bit empty inside. The first time he had fought with Izaya after initially meeting him in high school, he had felt bad. He was confused, and confused, and more confused. Eventually, he found the only possible way for him to be near the flea without feeling awkward was fighting; not that he could help it anyway. This became his way of living with the strange enamour for the black haired man, and although he was in a constant state of wondering whether or not it had been the right choice, it was too late for him to change it. In fact, Shizuo was often times so baffled by his own feelings, that he still doubted the feverish dreams and unconscious thoughts that seeped into his head when thinking about the flea. The heat that the constant battle and arguing brought was nothing compared to the school girl Izaya made Shizuo feel like. He was slightly ashamed, but since he could barely understand it, he hadn’t thought to put any importance to it.

Now, though, that he had very likely forced Izaya into his bed with not any holier-than-thou intentions, he could no longer ignore it. It wasn’t just a side product of hate, or a long gone high school crush. Shizuo did, actually, really, like Izaya. Hell, he might even love him.

His brain was frying, and the blond decided to get out of the shower. He quickly dressed and made his way back to the room. Opening the door quietly, he saw the sleeping man in his bed had not moved more than an inch. He thought it’d be polite to get him something to eat when he woke up, and made his way to the kitchen all bashful and all until he realized he couldn’t cook anything and milk and yogurt were the only two things in his fridge. He settled on a bottle of pink milk he guessed was strawberry and checked to make sure it wasn’t spoiled. He then made his way back to the bedroom and placed the bottle and a straw on a drawer chest where they’d be visible.

Shizuo took a glance at the flea and widened his eyes in surprise when he saw him stir. He stayed in place for a few seconds before he realized he would probably be discovered and for some reason did not want that to happen, thus he scrammed to the door. He held the door handle for a while and listened into the information broker get up. The sound of him sipping on the bottle he left for him was a bit calming, and Shizuo thought he felt a tiny bit good about him drinking it. When he heard footsteps coming his way, though, his brain completely abandoned him and decided to be brave all on its own. He opened the door as the footsteps became louder, and a slightly nervous Izaya faced him. His breath caught in his throat, and he prepared to grab the nearest heavy thing and destroy his apartment. But, he remembered the situation he was in, and did his best to remain calm. The heat on his face wasn’t something he could hide, and it made him angry that he was ashamed. After a few seconds, Izaya made to move around him, and in a panic, Shizuo stammered to say something; anything.

“Wait, Izaya,” he stepped in front of him.

“Yes?” The flea seemed angry.

““I- uh, I’m sorry,” he said. He was very confused. He didn’t think far enough ahead to plan how they’d talk, especially after whatever it was he did to him. He just hoped it would work out, or at least go back to normal. His relationship with Izaya, that is.

“You don’t remember, do you?” The broker asked. Shizuo was even more confused now. No, he didn’t. Why? What did he do?

“Do you?”

Shizuo didn’t know how to answer.

Izaya left.

The whole way home, Izaya was lightheaded and lost and dizzy and just fucking hell what was he doing. He was losing his rationalism, obviously, because Shizuo couldn’t smell that good, or have that nice a face when he was sleepy, or look great when his clothes weren’t the kind of fitted he’s grown used to already. Obviously, he was going insane. It would be total madness for a god like himself to fall for such a barbaric creature. But then again who thinks of themselves as a god and and others, those which he cannot understand, as monsters? Was his whole understanding flawed? Had he not figured out everything perfectly? If he had, why had the same man who threatened him on a regular basis triggered such a spurt of antsiness and nervousness he didn’t know he had? How could the notion of sleeping with this protozoan ever ignite a feeling other than disgust in him?

Nothing made sense. He wanted to go home and sleep and have it all be a dream. But that’d be worse, because that’d mean he himself had dreamt of such feelings. His head was reeling down a path he didn’t want to take, and Izaya felt himself heave with mental exhaustion. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to admit what was already a fact engraved in his brain.

There was something.

Something other than anger and hatred and amusement.

Something that had been repressed for the longest time in order to disguise his attraction with a mutual string of negativity neither of them could see past.

Izaya wanted the ground to swallow him up.

No, actually, he wanted Shizuo. Yes, yes, he did. And he couldn’t ignore it.

Oh, but he would. Oh, he would.

He, Izaya Orihara, refused outright to acknowledge the monster as anything other than amusement.

He, a god, would not mingle with those he was in eternal war with.

He would endure. For his pride.


	3. Lovers' Quarrel

It had been a week. One whole week and he had managed to shake off the disturbing feeling. Sure, his mind still threw an image of the ex-bartender on his face once in a while. But that was no big deal, because he’d adapted to ignore it.

Izaya was ready to make another trip to Ikebukuro. He had to, for work anyway.

He crossed the streets warily, reaching his destination without much trouble, quickly spilling his information and rounding up his money. He was all business as he proceeded to head back the way he came.

He saw a head of blond hair. It was Shizuo’s and he knew it and his breath caught in his throat. He frantically searched for a way to get out of the crowd, to find a hiding spot. But Shizuo had seen him already. The black-haired man practically flew into the back of an alley, no longer caring about blowing his cover. He backed away slowly, fixing his eyes upon the crowd from behind the wall.

 

Shizuo was scared.

He felt stupid. He’d ran to the other side of the building and had stepped inside the first dark corner he saw. And now the flea was staring from the other side of the alley, looking out, probably trying to see Shizuo himself.

He knew this would probably turn into something nasty and considered leaving before the informant saw him, but decided against it on the basis that he wanted to see Izaya.

He stepped closer and closer and closer until the black-haired man turned around and Shizuo saw his eyes widen in something akin to fear. Not fully understanding what he was doing, Shizuo put his arms forcibly around the flea and pulled the man into his chest. Sniffing that soapy, hospital smell, he buried his nose into Izaya’s thrashing body and decided to wait until he calmed down.

He didn’t.

 

Pulling his switchblade from his pocket as swiftly as he could with the monster trying to love strangle him, Izaya flicked the sharp point against Shizuo’s body, marking a fine, red line from his shoulder to the middle of his back. Grunting, Shizuo pushed the flea off, feeling his anger give to something else as he saw Izaya fall to the ground easily, as if his moves had deteriorated in just one week. He was about to forget about that concern and regress back into the angry and miserable state he was seemingly always in. He was going to bash the flea’s head in because he had slashed his back, but this time he knew fully well he liked the flea and wouldn’t hurt the flea if he could help it.

He stopped and stared at the lithe man now running toward him. The blade ripped through his clothing once again, only to create another long cut across his chest. Shizuo didn’t move. His throat was tight as he realized that Izaya was fighting him back. That he had pulled him toward him and hugged that sonofabitch and he had literally stabbed him in the back. He felt nauseous. Shizuo never even thought of having anything to do with Izaya other than the occasional public brawls, and thus never expected anything close to reciprocation from him on anything else but fighting. Now, though, Shizuo felt a weight settle on his shoulders and could not be rid of Izaya’s clear dislike of him haunting his mind with images resembling a child’s nightmare.

Shizuo only barely registered what the other had said:

“Shizu-chan, I’ll have to cancel all my appointments in Ikebukuro now because of you. You’ll never see me again. That is, unless I file a lawsuit for sexual abuse. Sizing me up like that, how naughty.”

Panting from his recent burst of exercise, Izaya began to run away. Chasing after him, like his body was already pre-programmed to do, Shizuo made an extra effort to get to him before he made his way into the crowd, before he couldn’t catch him any more.

He grabbed Izaya’s wrist roughly, pulled him back and let go the instant Izaya showed some kind of pain. Holding one hand in the other, the information broker attempted another escape after sending Shizuo a death glare, but the blond pulled him back again, angrily shoving Izaya’s face to his own and stopping just short of fusing their noses together. He breathed slowly and deeply, trying to swallow the scent around him, as he watched every drop of sweat roll down Izaya’s face, and watched him struggle and murmur strings of curses for what seemed to be minutes upon minutes.

He kissed him.

Yep, he did. He pushed his hungry, protozoan mouth all over Izaya’s ivory lips and fuck he wanted to keep him there for ever.

Izaya had stopped struggling. He was now holding onto Shizuo’s shoulders, not quite embracing him, but not pushing away either. Izaya was actually, actively terrified at that moment. He liked it. He enjoyed Shizuo’s sloppy, messy, inexperienced kiss and he was not okay with that. Heat pooled in his belly and he wanted to kiss back, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to.

Shizuo pulled away slowly, his mouth leaving a trace of saliva on Izaya’s lips. His face was red from his cheeks to the top of his ears, and he was eagerly watching for a reaction.

“‘M sorry,” he muttered,

Izaya didn’t really answer. He bowed his head and stepped back a little.

Shizuo was still clasping the broker’s shirt, fingers still hooked into the fabric, though they had slowly relaxed throughout the kiss.

The kiss, he thought. A kiss with Izaya Orihara, the guy he’s sworn to kill time and time again. He felt giddy, the stupid idiot did.

Izaya spoke. His voice was quiet. His head was down.

“I’m not coming back here. I’m not bothering you anymore, Shizu-chan, isn’t that nice? I’ll be out of your hair in no time, okay? Just let me go home.”

Shizuo did.

The information broker walked out of the alley, melting into the sea of people outside, slowly walking along them.

Shizuo felt sick. The elated feeling he had as he kissed him was gone, gone and lost forever, because he wasn’t coming back, dammit. He felt sick again, so he went home. He would probably drink milk and lay on his bed and remember Izaya’s moldable body accommodating him and giving him warmth like he had the past past week.

Maybe he’d get drunk and land somebody else in bed, and maybe he’d fall for them and wouldn’t have to think of Izaya anymore. Maybe he would go back to thinking he was an asshole he happened to have liked, but he’s a bad person, so no he doesn’t really like it, he has Margaret over here to keep him much better company. Margaret, Shizuo grunted at his own head. He’d go home. Maybe.


	4. Realization

A figure slumped next to the bathroom door and stared stupidly at his reflection in the full-length mirror. Izaya Orihara, a God among the people, reduced to this. Over such a stupid monster, even. How disgraceful.

Shizuo’s taste remained in his mouth, and he was not apt to try to drive it away. He relished it, his fingertips grazing his lips, not coming close to simulating the feeling of the other’s warm mouth on his own. And Izaya sat there and stayed there for what seemed like hours and looked at himself in the mirror.

Narcissism would save him, he decided. He would forget about Shizuo if he just focused on himself, on his business, on who he was. The mighty Izaya Orihara, yes. Yes, and yes again, he would get over this and win over the protozoan occupying his head. Yes, he would remain the one pillar of strength in this wretched town, full of filthy humans and their dirty habits and their nasty feelings. He would forget.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. And he decided to sleep, as if to drive the ex-bartender from his mind for at least a few hours.

Shizuo was angry. He paced in his room, hands in his hair, growling and feeling sorry for himself. Riled up because Izaya had rejected him, as he rightly should have, as he had expected, and the drowning self-pity emanating out of him was driving him nuts. He should not be this sad because of him. No, he knew this wouldn’t work, ever in a million years, because Izaya was Izaya and he hated Shizuo and Shizuo was Shizuo and he was stubborn and would pretend he hated Izaya back because he kind of did but mostly because that was the only time the black-haired man seemed approachable.

His head hurt. He was getting sad, and angry at getting sad, and angrier at being angry at something that shouldn’t be happening in the first place.

He needed to go and do something, anything as long as it would make thing better, if it would let him run after the flea the next day, shouting obscenities and having him escape from under his fingertips every time.

With a decided huff, he ran out into the street and sniffed the air like some kind of dog, then headed off running to his destination.

Izaya was away. He was out and about, with some other customer talking about how this guy is a member of this gang and how this woman is actually the mastermind of some underground operation, or making somebody else’s life very, very bad, probably. He’d forced a window open a climbed inside, and now he was looking at a dark apartment devoid of any life other than his own.

Instead of leaving, like Shizuo admitted he should have probably done, he lounged around and looked through the flea’s house.The place was full of the hospital smell the flea carried, and even though it still irked him, Shizuo couldn’t resist going up to the second floor in search of its source. He opened the door to a dark bedroom and stepped inside, overwhelmed with the intensity of the soapiness in the air. He walked in and looked around without turning the lights on. He walked around a bit and looked at an alarm clock marking four a.m. and continued droning on.

His anger having dissipated, he was thinking about going back home. But he was tired and he felt sick and actually, he wanted to sleep in Izaya’s bed. So he did.

Izaya found him snoring softly into a pillow, curled up in his house, in his bed, but at least not next to him. He decided to call it even and shook the man awake. It took four tries, but Shizuo was on his feet and lazily shuffling around. Izaya dragged him downstairs and was about to shove him out the door when the disheveled man talked in a sleepy voice.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked.

Izaya didn’t answer.

“Last night. I can’t remember but I saw the bruise on your neck and if that was me I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He wasn’t completely there, but he seemed coherent, and Izaya stopped trying to push him outside.

“You didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done sober, let’s leave it at that.”

Shizuo thought he must have known. Of course he does, he's an information broker and had tormented him with a pet name and mocking affection since forever. Nausea crept over him and he thought that maybe he was just a monster. That he had hurt Izaya and that the man thought it perfectly normal, as if he would’ve done it anyway.

He scrunched up his face, because Shizuo didn’t like to feel like he looked stupidly sad or disappointed or whatever he felt. He stood at the door.

“So I did?”

There was silence as Izaya looked upon the blond man, face scrunched up, looking down, grinding his teeth in what seemed to be frustration, his strained voice now pushing out of his mouth in torrents.

“Because if I did, I’m sorry. And I know that you think I would’ve done it anyway, but if I really hurt you and I didn’t mean it and if anything else happened and I forced you into it I’m sorry and I didn’t mean that either and I was probably just really drunk out of my mind and didn’t register that you didn’t wanna and I’m sorry if I said anything too and I know I always say I hate you and that I’m gonna kill you but I really don’t mean it and it doesn’t make sense that I apologize for that for last night and not all the time so I’m sorry for all of the time and I’m just sorry if I seriously hurt you this always happens and I'm not good at it and I hate apologizing so please just tell me what I did?”

Izaya’s eyes were wide, and he was slightly agape at Shizuo’s sudden burst of very, very fast speaking.

He laughed a little, then moved back inside the apartment.

“Close the door,” he said, and made his way over to the kitchen.

Shizuo did and followed him until he was instructed to sit at a dinner table. Izaya came out of the kitchen with what seemed like a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Let’s not get drunk tonight, okay?” Shizuo nodded.

They spent a while in silence. Izaya motioned Shizuo to get up, who had now assessed his recent speech and made a mental note to never ever do something like that again. He followed the man in black up the stairs and into the room he’d fallen asleep in.

Sitting on the bed, Izaya said “come,” and patted the space next to him.

Shizuo took his place hesitantly and began to worry as the flea’s hands began to move on his back. He was still thinking about how Izaya must still hate him if he’s done any of the things he’d mentioned, or even if he hadn’t. He was waiting for him to flick out a knife and stab him to death, but that didn’t happen.

Instead, the flea’s hands caressed his back and felt relaxing, and Shizuo leaned back into the touch.

He closed his eyes and hoped Izaya wasn’t secretly planning to end his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Hello, everyone! Just wanted to let you guys know that the next chapter is probably going to have some explicit sexual content, although I tried to not make it too nasty... I probably should've given in, but I really don't know whether it'd be any good were I to write smut, so... It's whatever. It isn't that bad, and you can just skip over to the next chapter, so it's not like it adds much anyway. I'll go now before this turns out longer than the chapter. Bye-bye!!


	5. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Hello guys! This is a little warning about mature content in this chapter. It isn't really graphic, just because I didn't know if I would be able to pull it off, but yeah. It isn't so bad, but if you want to skip it regardless, it will be over by the last bit of dialogue. Enjoy!

Why was he doing this again?

Right, because he wanted to be in bed with Shizuo Heiwajima, the fucking monster of Ikebukuro. Right.

He slid off the other male's shirt without much resistance and was now working on getting his pants out of the way. Shizuo wasn't really reciprocating, but he wasn't fighting back.

The way he'd said it, "if anything else happened and I forced you into it I'm sorry and I didn't mean that either and I was probably just really drunk out of my mind and didn't register that you didn't wanna," it seemed like he thought he would've been the instigator of whatever he thought happened. That was a good sign. It meant Izaya had been able to read him at least once, even if he'd done it more as a joke than anything else.

Izaya was taking care of his own clothes now, slipping out of his attire quickly and swiftly before going back to a naked Shizuo. He slowly ran his hands down to his belly and back up to his shoulders as he got closer and eventually sat on the blond's lap. He was breathing heavily, and stopped altogether as he brought his lips close to the other's.

The kiss was quick, just a peck, but Izaya had felt the same stupidly strong current of energy go through his body. The same must have happened to Shizuo, given that he was now looking toward the other with slightly parted lips and a wild shine in his eyes. He didn't come in for a second kiss, but when Izaya did, he reciprocated kindly, sloppily running his tongue over the other's lips, pulling Izaya down as if he wanted to consume the other more than anything.

Izaya now sitting on Shizuo's lap, both men's erections plainly obvious, the air around them became hot. Izaya knew what came next, but he was still very much shy about it. However, in order to put his master plan into action, he crawled over to his nightstand and took a small bottle of lube from a drawer. Spreading some of it over his fingers, he looked back to see a very eager Shizuo looking at him before, in plain view of the other, beginning to prepare himself for the other male.

Shizuo looked hungrily, and although he wanted to climb over to other or, he didn't know, do something, he wouldn't. If this was how Izaya would get over whatever he did to him the previous night, he wasn't going to force himself on him again.

After a few agonizing minutes of slightly painful anal fingering, Izaya lost his patience and got up, waddled his way back to Shizuo and plainly said: "fuck me."

Shizuo couldn't have possibly thought about it at that moment. He climbed atop the black-haired man, who was already on his hands and knees. Shizuo pushed in and it hurt for a while, but it seemed like his "preparations" had been enough. Not really understanding how they felt about this entirely, both continued to trudge on, Shizuo pushing into the other fervently and Izaya straining to keep his breathing stable.

Eventually, it became pleasurable for Izaya, and moans and whines came from deep in his lungs, even if he tried to muffle them under the pillow. Shizuo grunted and thrust into him repeatedly, elated by the little sounds he was causing to come from the smaller male. It occurred to him, between the sensation of fever running through his body and the image of Izaya's body under his, that this had been what he'd wanted for so long. He felt something akin to accomplishment, and then remembered that if he had done something like this without the other's permission, he should not be feeling anything but remorse. Izaya's pleading cries snapped him from his delusion.

"Faster,' he said. "I'm not made of glass, dammit…Besides, you're not that strong." He chuckled breathlessly.

Shizuo doubled his pace, causing the other to moan louder. Izaya's hand reached over his back and pulled Shizuo closer. He obliged, pushing Izaya down into a lower position so he could kind of lay over him. He slid his arms under Izaya's shoulders and stayed there, pressing his cheek against the other's back. It was a bit awkward, but now Shizuo could lean over and easily nip at the informant's ear. This he did, and received a nice little gasp as a response.

Izaya was a mess. He felt amazing, and he wanted more, and he felt as if he could do this forever, but he was still a mess. He didn't know how this had played into his plan, but fuck it, he had wanted it anyway. Coming to terms with it had taken a devious idea and the blond brute bearing down on his ass mercilessly, but it was worth it.

He shut his eyes tight as Shizuo's hand, closed on Izaya's member, sped up as the blond himself rammed erratically into him. A few more milliseconds of blinding heat, and Izaya was gone, Shizuo coming just seconds later. Breathing heavily, both men began to sit up. Izaya was a bit sore, so he opted to lay down on his back instead. The blond looked down at him, brown eyes fixing upon obsidian colored ones.

Izaya spoke first.

"Did it look like I was crying out for help?"

Shizuo didn't answer, confused.

"Did it?"

"...No."

"Good." There was a finality about the statement. "Do you think I was struggling to get out of your grasp?"

"No."

"Good. Do you think I would've been powerless to do anything if you had attempted something like that? I know you're a caveman, but come on."

"...No?" Shizuo mumbled.

"Great, then if you had done anything, it wouldn't have been against my will, right? You would've woken up with a scar or two, yeah?"

Shizuo nodded, understanding a bit better now.

"But did I-"

"No, moron. You didn't do anything. You kind of choked me out when I caught you wandering around, but that was it. You didn't hurt me much.

Shizuo sighed and turned on his side to pull Izaya into a sweaty hug, which he only fought at first.

"So, we're okay?"

"Uh, sure."

"Am I still going to chase you next time I see you in town?"

"Probably. I mean, I have a reputation to uphold. I can't be seen in a compromising position with a lowly protozoan as yourself, you know," Izaya chuckled, leaning into Shizuo's chest.

Humming in response, Shizuo wrapped the rest of himself around Izaya's Customizable Body Heater™ and drifted slowly to sleep.


	6. Aftermath

After their last encounter, Shizuo Heiwajima walked behind Tom with a very wide, very creepy and unusual smile. He got angry less and threw caused less property damaged and gracefully and ruthlessly beat the crap of whoever Tom-san told him to go after. He was having a wonderful day.

Izaya Orihara, on the other hand, was dealing with an onslaught of emails and correspondence even Nami couldn’t help him with. He was up to his shoulders in paperwork, and decided a little walk would help him out. Leaving poor Nami alone, he left the building and began to hurry over to Ikebukuro, in search of his most entertaining specimen.

 

The black-haired man was perched on the railings atop him like a crow, dark, beady eyes looking him up and down. After catching his cue, Shizuo took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and shouted out to the four winds:

“Izaaayaaaaaa-kuuun!!” with two exclamation points for outstanding loudness.

The information broker immediately laughed and threw an insult Shizuo paid no attention to, and scampered away at top speed. Chasing him through the city felt good, like you felt good riding a bicycle after a couple of years, because you know how to do it well and you’re surprised you still remember. Shizuo smirked and ran faster, never once intending to catch the flea. After he lost him, he gave one last huff and started to walk back home.

The informant was waiting for him at his door, and Shizuo smiled at him as he opened the door to his apartment. Stepping in, the flea immediately did for the fridge, picking up a bottle of strawberry milk and gulping down two swigs. He then skipped over to the couch and sat there, cuddling over to one side. Shizuo joined him shortly and got entangled with the other soon after, sharing small kisses and smiling really hard--and creepily, in Shizuo’s case.

It was going good. They kept messing around in public for the hell of it, and honest to goodness Shizuo thought he still hated him sometimes, but then who wouldn’t, right? It’s Izaya, and he knew he felt the same way sometimes too. They met at night and played at romanticism, which nearly always ended in sex or at least some very heavy petting. Izaya would stay over sometimes and sleep the night with him. He liked that a lot. He like Izaya’s Custom Body Heater™ a lot. He chuckled a little and pressed his face to Izaya’s neck. He supposed he was still confused, but he wasn’t complaining.

 

Izaya watched as the blond slept. He reflected on his decision to lower himself to mortal feelings and decided that it didn’t matter much, after all. Shizuo was still his most interesting subject, and he still enjoyed playing with filthy humans. Shizuo still provided a way of coping with stress and work, and everything was the same. He tried to hide from everyone because it would be harmful for work, and who was he kidding, Izaya was afraid to tell. He didn’t want his reputation ruined, and he didn’t want anybody to know the man he had claimed to hate and had taken pleasure in torturing for so long was now holding him at night and kissing him before bed.

He snuggled closer to the sleeping man, and kissed the crown of his blond head of hair. He liked it here, though. In Shizuo’s apartment with a fridge full of dairy and the ex-bartender suits strewn across the room by the end of the week. He shifted a little to his side, and let his eyelids close on their own.

Tomorrow he would wake up and do the same thing he’s been doing for years. And he would come back to Shizuo in the night, maybe not that same day or the next one, maybe after a chase through town or two, but he knew that he’d be there. He’d turned out to be a more decent monster than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: And that's it! The end! Whoohoo! Yeah. Again, I'm really sorry this turned out super  
> short, and I know it wasn't that great to begin with, but yeah. I'm still working on some other  
> stories so hopefully I'll post soon. Until the next one, bye bye ^_^


End file.
